


Predestination

by bastet



Category: Angel: the Series, The Sentinel
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2018-03-19 11:21:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3608220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bastet/pseuds/bastet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"My assets were just fine *before* this little incident, thanks." Crossover with The Sentinel, after "Home."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Predestination

**Author's Note:**

> There was a panther in this one episode of Angel, that's way more than I need for a totally gratuitous Sentinel crossover. Originally written in 2003...probably.

He can hear the quick beat of Fred's heart. He can hear her laughter, close as if his ear was up against her chest.

Only, he's three floors up.

He can't sleep with the endless noise--not that he's ever in his life slept somewhere completely silent. A bright flash of neon from somewhere out the window leaves him blinded for an hour. He can count the threads of the cheap cotton sheets with his fingertips.

He can almost hear Wesley's brain cells burning.

*

"Oh, here's something," Wes says after several hours of Gunn acting like a shell shock victim whenever anyone drops a pencil. Then, "Hm."

"What, English, is it in one of the five languages you can't read?" He regrets snapping right away, not because Wes seems to notice but because the loud tone hurts his ears.

"No, it's...an American anthropologist. A man with enhanced senses. There's quite a lot of research here, but..."

"Spit it out."

"It's all a lie."

Gunn snorts. "Not from where I'm sitting it ain't."

"True," Wesley says, calmly, "I'll see if I can find out more." He relinquishes the computer to Fred, and goes to find Gunn some earplugs.

*

"I knew I shouldn’t've trusted Wolfram & Hart," Gunn says bitterly.

"These things happen," says Wesley, and Gunn wishes he would freak out, just once.

"It showed me all the people I could help. The panther," Gunn says, bitterly. "I didn't know it was going to mean *this.*"

"Heightened senses aren't that bad," Angel puts in.

"Yeah, well, that's what you say about drinking blood, too, isn't it."

"They could be a valuable asset," announces Wesley.

"My assets were just fine *before* this little incident, thanks."

Wes just gives him a thoughtful look (like he has any other kind) and jumps a little when Fred says that she has an address.

*

"Um, hi," says a curly-haired guy, opening the door at 852 Prospect. "You're not criminals, are you?"

"I guess we should have called ahead," Wes apologizes.

The guy relaxes, brightens disarmingly. "Just kidding. Mostly. Do I know you two?"

Gunn tries not to look at him too unpleasantly; he feels like someone's drilling a hole in his skull, and taking their sweet time too. "We're looking for Blair Sandburg."

"Hey, you're in luck: that's me. Come on in."

"Sorry to intrude," Wes murmurs.

"No problem."

"I hope you're not too busy."

"Nah, it's my day off; I've been talking to National Geographic specials all day--"

Gunn decides to blame this particular headache on both of them. "We're hear about Sentinels," he says, and it's amazing how fast Blair shuts down.

"Well, if you've heard about my paper, you must've also heard that I made the whole thing up," he says, laughingly angry about something.

"Right," says Gunn, "And I'm the Queen of England."

"Well, Your Majesty," hisses an irritated voice from above, "we haven't cleaned the place in weeks, and I don't think it's really fit for royalty right now. So why don't you--"

"Please," Wesley says quietly, and it settles them all down.

*

On the way back from Cascade he amuses himself by throwing his sight out. He can see the divots on the bottom of a passing jet, and he comes back to himself feeling a little dizzy. "Hey, stop the car a sec," and Wes pulls over, checking for damage from behind his glasses.

"Interesting visit," he remarks.

"Yeah. I didn't like Ellison."

"Territorial response."

"Maybe."

"That's what Blair said, anyway. He seemed to know."

"Maybe I just didn't like him, what's wrong with that?"

"He knew about the panther," Wes reminds him.

"He doesn't know *me,* though," Gunn says, almost anxiously.

Wesley smiles at him; a smile from the days Before Fred that makes him look very...breakable. "No, I suppose not."

*

"It still feels crazy," Gunn says, because he can tell that Fred uses a lot of deodorant and that Angel has started grinding his teeth incessantly.

"I'm really not qualified to offer an opinion on your mental health," Wes says lazily.

"Never stopped you before, did it?" Gunn snipes, then says "sorry" to hear the surprised thump of Wes's heart. He likes that.

*

"The thing is," he says, when Wes starts looking like he might go home for the evening, "he was sort of right."

"About...?"

"The territorial thing."

"Really. You think so?"

"Look at Fred."

"I have," Wes says, and Gunn glares at him, just for old time's sake. Which is sort of the problem.

"I thought you wanted her; that was why I made my move so fast," Gunn blurts out, as fast as he can. "I didn't think you'd give up so easy, English."

"I don’t pursue girls belonging to my closest friends," Wes says, more prissily than nobly.

"Maybe you should have." Wes gets up to go; Gunn holds him by the shoulder. "You get me?"

"Not really, no," he says, and leans out of the grip.

"I thought thinking was your strong suit, Wes." He listens hard for the ferocious rushing of Wes's blood.

"Gunn," Wesley says, rubbing his arm. "Gunn."

"I'm right here," Gunn says irritably.

"You weren't a moment ago," Wes tells him. "What was it Blair called them? 'Zone-outs'?"

"Man, he *does* know everything," Gunn says in sarcastic awe.

"Hm. About Sentinels, anyway," Wesley agrees.

"He did write the book."

"Yes." Wes looks distracted, focused on Gunn but not on the conversation.

"Hey, I wonder if all Sentinels are gay," Gunn wonders out loud. Which makes Wes pay attention damn quick.

"You're...not," Wesley says, swallowing. "At least, I--"

"I mean, they seemed pretty gay," Gunn says, ignoring him, moving in until Wes's knees bump against the sombrero chair. "But maybe that decision is up to the individual Sentinel."

"You can't decide things like that," Wes says, back in the game. "You either are or you aren't. I, for instance, can't read without my glasses, and I certainly can't see things happening five blocks away."

"Sure," says Gunn, "but you do okay anyway."

"Contacts," Wes admits, "I thought they might a little bit more--"

Gunn kisses him, not because they are but because Wesley is, all by himself.


End file.
